


Endeavour: Stars

by Parakeetist



Category: Endeavour (TV), Inspector Morse & Related Fandoms, Inspector Morse (TV)
Genre: Contest, Dancing, England (Country), F/M, Love is Strange, Mystery, Oxford, Ping-Pong, flats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-09 18:51:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18922978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Parakeetist/pseuds/Parakeetist
Summary: Following on from "Moon." Set at the beginning of the fifth season.





	Endeavour: Stars

Endeavour: Stars  
by Parakeetist

Joan Thursday walked through the doors of the museum and went to put her property in the locker. This accomplished, she patted down her dress and put on her nametag. She strode into the main hall. 

Visitors began to come through the door. She smiled and waved. A sign next to her said, “Wait here for docent.” 

Joan turned to answer a guest’s question. “Yes, ma’am, we do have some features for the blind. In every exhibit room, you should find a pillar with a button on it. Press that button and it will play short descriptions of the pieces. Did you need help walking?” 

“No, thanks, I’ve got my cane,” the elderly woman said, and walked off to begin her tour. 

Joan turned to face the next guest. “And you-” 

It was Endeavour. “You startled me. I didn’t know you were coming in,” she said. 

“Mr. Thursday gave me the day off,” he said. “Might as well spend it learning something.” 

“Did you take your medicine?” 

“Yes.” 

“Okay. I can walk you through the Hall of Scientists, to start.” 

“Let’s.” 

They strolled into the room. “Over here, we have Sir Isaac Newton,” she began. 

... 

“And we finish with Sir-” she said, pointing to a portrait, but Morse did not hear her. He began wobbling back and forth. She grabbed him under the arms. 

“Easy now. Let’s get you to a chair.” Thursday walked with him to the side of the room and waved to the security guard. “Can you get us a wheelchair, sir?” 

“Yes, right away,” the man said, and went off to find one. 

“Hold on. It’ll be all right,” Joan said. 

“Thank you.” 

“I thought you said you took your injection.” 

“I did.” 

Joan rummaged in her purse. She took out a piece of chocolate and unwrapped it. “Here. I’ve got to get you some of these, in the gift shop. That’ll save you if this ever happens again.” 

The guard came over with the chair. “Here you are.” 

“Thank you,” Endeavour said, and sat down. 

Joan began to push him. “What do you want to see next?” 

“This is embarrassing.” 

“Don’t think anything of it. That’s what the chairs are here for.” “Well, the cafe, please.” 

She wheeled him off to the dining hall. She ordered a bagel for herself and a muffin for him. 

Morse pushed his chair back and forth. “I hope they don’t make me keep one of these.” He picked at his muffin. 

“Did you start the bland diet yet?” 

“No. And I am not going to. There is no reason for anyone to eat boiled chicken.” 

“I’m sure you can roast it instead. I’ll get you a machine.” 

“I don’t want it.” 

“Otherwise, my mother is going to make you dinner every day. You may have to come over.” 

“That might not be a bad idea.” He ate a little more of the muffin. “Do you ever think about a family?” 

“What brought that on?” she said, looking puzzled. 

“Do you?” 

“Well, yes, I think so.” 

“Good.” 

“Um, do you?” 

He continued to eat. 

“That’s not fair,” she said. “You should tell me, if you’re going to ask me.” 

“Let’s go,” he said, and handed her the rubbish. 

Still at sea, she dumped it in the bin. “All right. You’ll have to walk to the car.” 

He left the wheelchair at the front desk. 

“I’ll get you a walking stick,” she said. He nodded and left. 

... 

When the shift was over, Joan took her things and left. She went back to her flat. “Cheryl, Rachel, hi,” she said as she walked in. She sat down on the couch. 

“Hello,” Cheryl Fisk said. “Mail’s here. Don’t go to sleep just yet.” 

“What, are we watching the late movie together?” Joan said. 

“No, the last time you had man problems, you slept eleven hours.” 

“Who said I had-” 

“Yeah, you’re between men,” Rachel Abramowitz said. “We have to get you someone new.” 

“Oh, that sounds so – sale-like.” Joan shivered. 

“That’s it!” Cheryl said. “We have to find one of those man auctions they do for charity.” 

“Yeah, you buy a ticket, you get to bid on spending one day with a man. They’re really cute,” Rachel said with a smile. 

“I don’t think I like that.” Joan squirmed on the sofa. 

“Of course you do. You like boys.” Cheryl beamed. 

“Men,” Joan countered. 

“We’ll pay the fee,” Rachel said. 

“Oh, great. When is this event?” Joan asked. 

“We should be able to find one in a week or two.” Cheryl tapped her mail on the table. 

“I’d better go set out my clothes. This humiliation will tax all my fashion sense.” With a nervous smile, Joan set off for her room. 

... 

The next week, Morse was back at work. He carried Joan’s black satchel, full of insulin and gear, and stashed it in his desk. 

“Use this if I pass out,” he said to Jim, as he put the bag away. 

“Indeed,” Strange said. “Did you get the memo on the Hurley case?” 

“That’s the one from Grove, where the man stole a car, and tried to sell it here, right?” 

“Yes.” 

“Why isn’t this a case for Traffic?” 

“There was a body in the trunk.” 

Endeavour’s eyes opened wide. “Oh, then. We should do something about it.” 

“Like examine the evidence and arrest someone if needed.” 

“Just the thing.” 

Morse began to read through the case file. He was poring over the photos of the scene, when Robert Lewis walked up. 

“Anyone want to enter this?” Lewis said. “There’s a charity auction going on. Benefits the Widows and Orphans Fund.” 

“Let me see,” Jim said, and took the paper. “’Males wanted for a night of high bids and high spirits. The Woof's first annual bachelor auction.’ Woof. Keen nickname. You should go to this, mate.” 

“Why? Robert’s already got a girlfriend.” Morse looked baffled. 

“I meant you, you daft knucklehead.” Jim waved the paper. “You could try and spend time with a decent woman.” 

“But I don’t want one.” 

“I knew that. I was just trying to drag you out of the mud.” 

“Hey! That’s not fair! I meant, I’m not trying to be with anyone right now, not that I don’t want to be with a decent-” 

“You’re going. I’m nominating you.” 

“I’m not going.” 

“I’m paying your application fee.” Jim pointed to Morse. “Who knows, someone you already like might bid on you.” 

“But I don’t like anyone right now.” 

Jim breathed out hard and rolled his eyes. “You’re really making this difficult. Bring a black suit.” 

“Aah-” Morse picked up the papers on his desk and dropped them. Jim walked away. 

... 

The next day was Friday. Joan had a half-day at the museum. She helped the curator print fliers for a new exhibit, and went home. 

She was listening to the radio and reading a magazine when the phone rang. 

“Hello, dear, how are you?” Winifred said. 

“I’m fine, Mom, how’s yourself?” 

“Well enough. Your father told me about this event they’re having at a dining hall in town. It’s an auction for a night with a bachelor.” 

“Mom, are you kidding? I don’t want to go to one of those things. It’s so tacky. My flatmates were talking about sending me to something like that, but I really don’t want to. It would be so unpleasant.” 

“Really?” 

“Kind of admitting I can’t meet somebody the regular way.” 

“I think you should try. It would at least get you out of the house.” 

“Oh… Do I have to show up in formal wear?” 

“No, business casual is all right.” 

“When and where is it?” 

“At Carey Events Center, this Saturday. Tomorrow.” 

“That soon? Did you get the tickets?” 

“Yes. I have one. I’ll bring it over.” 

“Okay. I’ll give it a try. But don’t make me marry him.” 

“Unless he asks you.” 

“Oh, Mom!” Joan gave a lopsided grin. “What time is it?” 

“Seven in the evening.” 

“Okay. Thanks, Mom. Are you and Dad going to come?” 

“We’ll let you have this night to yourself, dear.” 

“Not sure I want you to. But I’ll let you know how it turns out.” 

“That’s what I was hoping for. See you.” 

“Goodnight, now.” Joan hung up. 

She got up and used the washroom. As she was washing her hands, she looked in the mirror. Tomorrow morning, she would have to put on extra eyeliner. Purple? No, too strong. Blue? Not that, either. 

She shut off the light and went to bed. 

... 

On Saturday, Winifred dropped off the ticket. It was a large card with bright lettering. “’You are cordially invited to spend an evening at the Carey Events Center, to raise money for our department’s Widows and Orphans Fund. Fun will be had.’ You really think so, Mom?” Joan smiled. 

“I do. Be sure to bring your camera. You’ll want some photos of those gents.” 

“How many do I have to bring home?” 

“Oh, just one, but there are several to choose from. You may want to call another if one doesn’t work out.” 

Joan burst out laughing. “Assuming I even win.” 

Her mother winked. “You may.” She kissed her daughter on the cheek. “See you.” She got in the car and drove away. 

... 

Joan killed time riding her bike. She returned to the flat and took a nap. 

The evening arrived. Joan called a taxi and went to the hall. 

A long queue of people stretched down the block. Ms. Thursday got in line and took out her ticket. 

She got to the front, and showed her pass to the bouncer. “Go in,” he said. She walked past the rope barrier. 

Joan again showed her card, once she got inside. This time, it was to a host in a red suit. He pointed to a block of seats. “Yours is number 12, row 38,” he said. “Take a bidding paddle.” He handed it to her. 

“Thank you. Any other rules I need to know?” 

“When we start, the bachelors will be led out. They will have covers over their faces. They have to remove them, but I'm not sure when.” 

“Oh! Is that in the second round?” 

“The third.” 

“Ooh. I may enjoy myself.” She smiled. “Do we get to ask them questions?” 

“The host will ask them. It’s like a quiz show.” 

“Ah! I’ll be watching. Thanks.” 

“Thank you.” 

Joan took a little cup of lemon soda pop and went to her seat. Gradually, the chairs around her filled up. 

A PC appeared on stage. “Welcome, ladies and gentlemen! My name is PC Delaware Miller, and this is the First Annual Bachelor’s Auction, to benefit our wonderful Widows and Orphans Fund! Let’s have a round of applause!” The crowd did as requested. “They do such good work, helping people in need. Your money will be used to do that with minimal overhead. Now, I know you ladies, especially, are worried about violating the rules of propriety.” A laugh went through the crowd. “I assure you, there will be no hanky-panky. Tonight.” Another laugh. “The band will warm us up while the men get ready. All right?” 

The crowd chattered, and shifted on their seats. Some drank their cocktails, others ate hors d’ouevres. A woman leaned over and said to Joan, “What a night! Don’t you love this?” 

“Well, I’m not exactly hoping I win. I just want to contribute a small amount. It’s a good cause. What’s your name, by the way? Mine’s Joan.” 

“It’s Drusilla. And don’t you want to be with someone? Heavens, you came here, didn’t you?” 

“Good point.” Joan grinned. 

“How much money did you bring?” 

“Oh, a few pounds.” 

“Good. Don’t want to lose out on your bids.” 

“Are you contributing toward more than one man? What if you win a day with both?” Joan looked baffled. 

“We’ll see what happens,” the other woman said with a wink. 

The audience kept their focus on the stage. A spotlight showed down as the eight bachelors walked up and stood next to the host. 

“Welcome, gentlemen! Are you ready to compete for a day with a special lady?” Miller smiled. The unmarried men did as well. They were all dressed in black suits, and all wore face masks. The masks were large and opaque, so you could not see any man’s facial features. 

Joan thought she recognized a couple of them. Her father had introduced her to a few men from the station, over the years. Drusilla screamed and waved at the contestants. Joan wondered if that woman would pass out. 

“Let’s get going,” Miller said. “Ladies, you will not learn the names of these gents until you win and they go with you. You will get to bid after the introductory and speech portions of the evening. Our competitors will have to answer some questions. You will notice that their voices sound unusual. The masks are equipped with sound adjusters, which make it possible to hear the person, but not to tell who they really are. Let’s start the first round: what do you like to do on the weekends?” 

Bachelor one stepped up to the microphone. “I hit the gym. Got to keep up my fitness.” 

“Great!” Delaware said. “How about you, man number two?” 

The men answered one by one. At last it was number eight’s turn. 

“I listen to music. Sometimes I go for walks.” He started to fiddle with his right ear. 

“So you’re laid-back. Not a bad thing to be.” Miller faced the crowd. “Round two! Do you own any pets?” 

“I worked at a zoo once,” man number three said. “That was kind of like owning them. Used to smell at the end of the day.” 

Man number eight said, “I just bought a house. Don’t have any pets yet.” 

“Wow!” Miller said. “Way to bury the lede!” 

When the questions were done, Delaware again spoke to the audience. “Ladies, the men will each give a speech, in turn. They have three minutes to speak on any topic, as long as it’s not violent or otherwise graphic. Let’s begin!” 

He smiled and asked the fourth participant to step forward. “Number four, tell us what it was like when you started work as a young adult.” 

“I took a job in a grocery store,” the man said. He filled his three minutes with tales of changing the register tape, and refilling the bag holder. 

“Number six?” PC Miller asked. 

“I went into the Royal Navy straight out of secondary school. Fired blank torpedoes.” 

“At the enemy and everything?” Miller asked. 

“No, just a training exercise.” 

Finally, it was number eight’s turn. “I was in the Army.” 

“Did you like it?” 

“No.” 

“What do you do now?” 

“I’m a civil servant, you might say. Most of it’s boring. You have to do a lot of paperwork, no matter what.” He talked about daily life at his office: making sure your uniform was neat and tidy, sitting through hearings with the boss, and so forth. 

“Thank you, all of you. Each of you will be sent home with a different person. They will have the right to do whatever they want with you… for twenty-four hours.” He cackled. The crowd giggled. “All right! Now, let’s start the bidding. Who’ll put one pound on the first gentleman?” A lady in the crowd raised her paddle. “Splendid! Do I hear two?” 

The bidding got to fifteen pounds. “All right, do I hear sixteen? No? Going once, going twice, three times, and sold! To guest number 202. Everyone who wins will come up to the front of the stage to meet their ‘prizes,’ when bidding is done.” 

The man nodded his head and stepped aside. The next man came forward. 

“You should try for this one,” Drusilla said, and reached over. She pulled Joan’s hand up in the air. 

Joan yelled and pulled it back down. “God, no. I’m bidding on number eight, if anyone.” 

“All right.” Drusilla pushed her sign up in the air. The auctioneer pointed to her. 

“That’s two pounds. Do I hear three?” 

The bidding went on. Drusilla won her auction for the second man. At last, bachelor eight stepped forward. 

“Do I hear one pound? Just one, to start? Ladies, come on. All the men have told us their secrets, and I think you should-” 

Joan lifted her paddle. “There’s one!” PC Miller said. “And do we-” She raised her hand again. The officer raised his eyebrow. “I guess that’s allowed. Can we get-” Thursday raised her sign a third time. An usher came running down the row and leaned over. 

“How much do you want to bid?” 

“Twenty pounds.” 

“That’s rather a lot,” the usher said with a raised eyebrow He pulled his lapels. "Nice chunk of cash." He read the amount to the auctioneer anyway. 

“Whoa! Looks like we may have a winner already. Any other bids for the company of this fine person? Going once, going twice, three times, and sold! To guest number 444. And now, winners, please come forward and meet your men! We will have a dinner-dance right after this event. Gentlemen, please do not take off your masks until, ah, your accompanying lady agrees to let you.” Delaware smiled, and the women walked up. 

Joan stood in front of the man with the number eight on the little sign around his neck. He groaned, and started to mumble. She took his hand. Behind the mask, his eyes went wide. She let go. 

The winners, and the rest of the crowd, all walked into the dining hall. The eight couples strolled onto the dance floor. Music began to play. 

The dancers shuffled around to the songs. Joan’s partner refused to shut off the adjuster in his mask, and did not touch her while they danced. “We will eat soon,” he said, and uttered absolutely nothing else until the music stopped. 

The couples walked to their seats. The other guests had already been served. Joan signaled a waiter. 

“He’ll have-” She turned to look at her companion. 

“Salmon, please.” 

“And to drink?” the waiter asked. 

“White Russian.” 

“Yes. And the lady?” 

“Fettuccine Alfredo, and the house wine,” Joan said. 

“Very good.” He walked away to place the orders. 

Thursday’s new friend drummed his fingers on the table. Joan looked around, and noticed that the other masked men were talking animatedly with their guests. She was jealous. If only this man would break the ice. 

Well, she could try. “So, how are you?” she asked. He harrumphed and shook his head. 

Good God, this man was really resentful. Joan wished Drusilla and her man were sitting next to her. They would be a lot more fun. 

She tried again. “Well, I’m glad we raised a bit of money for the Widows and Orphans’ Society. They’ll be coming around to take donations from the other guests. I think that’s great.” She smiled. The man only stared straight ahead. Great. What was he going to do when she got him home? 

After a while, the food arrived. Her companion picked at his. She lifted her fork and settled in on the fettuccine. 

“I hate white Russians,” he said out of nowhere. “Figured I’d pick the worst drink I could, to kill my memory.” 

“Oh,” Joan said, knocked off her moorings. “I hope you like the food.” 

He settled into the meal, and paid her no more attention until it was over. 

Joan began to wonder if she should turn the man back over to PC Miller. They could keep her donation. She might not want to spend even one day alone with this fellow. 

The waiter came around to collect the plates. PC Miller stood up again and said, “Thank you all for coming, and for your generous donations to the fund. Goodnight!” 

The crowd filtered out into the parking lot. “Did you take the bus?” the stranger asked Thursday. 

“Ah, yes, I did.” 

“My car’s in the shop. They gave me a loaner.” 

He walked her to it. The vehicle was green on top and white on the bottom. Some fashions, she wouldn’t miss when they went out. 

“Where do you live?” he said as they got in. She told him the address. He started on the way. 

He popped on a news station. The announcer began to read the stock results for the day. 

They reached Joan’s flat. “I’ll get the door,” she said. He waited while she unlocked the door. 

A note on the living room table said Rachel and Cheryl had gone away for the weekend, and they wouldn’t be back until Sunday evening. “Oh, drat, you won’t get to meet the people I live with. Rachel and Cheryl. They’re very nice.” 

The man sat down on the sofa. He folded his arms across his chest. 

Joan, again startled, headed toward the kitchen. “I’ll make you another white Russian. I know you said you don’t like them, but I’m afraid if you drink anything else, you’ll get sick.” 

“Wine, please,” the man said. 

“Oh. Okay, if you’re sure.” Joan returned with two glasses of red. “You can take off your mask now.” 

He just glared at her. 

“Please, it’s okay. I won’t make fun of you, no matter who you are.” Still silence. “All right, why are you so angry? Is it something I did?” 

The man shook his head. 

“Ah, just tell me why. I expect my new friend Drusilla was rather happy with her choice. Doubt I’ll ever run into her again, but still.” 

The man set his hands to either side of his knees. 

“Well, you’ll just have to hear me talk, then. Do you like to play any games? Monopoly, perhaps?” Of course, he said nothing. 

Joan got up and went to her room. She returned with a telescope. “Haven’t used this in a while. It had dust all over it. I wiped it with an antiseptic cloth.” 

The man jumped up and eagerly took hold of the telescope. He ran outside and placed the instrument on the lawn. 

“Oh, now I’ve got your attention,” Joan said, running after him. “Do you know the constellations?” 

“Many,” he said. “Look, there’s Jupiter. See?” He pointed to it. 

“Sure that’s not Mars?” 

“Different part of the sky.” 

Joan took hold of the handle and swung it to the appropriate area. “Wow,” she said, and smiled. “You’re right. I can see the little dots around it, the moons.” 

“It’s an exceptionally clear night.” 

“Your voice chirps awfully badly with that thing.” She pointed to the mask. He shrugged. 

They looked at the Moon a few minutes. Then they went back inside. 

She put the telescope back in her closet, and went back to the living room. The man sat on the sofa. She took a chair. “So, not going to tell me your real name?” She smiled. He shook his head. 

“Let’s see if I can figure out who you are.” He tilted his head, but did not say anything to stop her. 

“Don’t you remember from the events center?” he asked. 

“No,” she said. “Not much. Where do you work?” 

“Ah, I’m a public servant.” 

“Hmm. Are you a judge?” 

“I’m not that.” 

“Oh. Are you a law clerk?” 

He shook his head. 

“What do you do for fun?” 

“Listen to music. Go to museums.” 

“Popular things to do, in this town. Do you like sport? Take part in anything?” 

“No, I don’t exercise.” 

“I can’t figure you out.” He gave her a look that she was sure was a smile. 

“Have I ever met you before?” 

“Not like this.” He crossed his legs. 

“Oh. That’s a puzzle. Got it – you’re Geoffrey Morgan. My friend who works at the library.” 

The man shook his head. 

“Leo Patterson, the man from TV? But that would make you not a public servant. One more guess.” He nodded slightly. “Ah, Christian Crane, the weatherman?” 

The guest shook his head no. 

“All right, let’s see,” Joan said. “Do you want to do anything else? I know. Let’s play ping pong. There’s a hall a few blocks away.” 

“Ah, okay.” The man got up and walked with her. 

“I wonder if they’ll let you in, with your mask. I’ll say it’s because you were injured.” 

The man looked at her, and snorted. 

They reached the hall. She spoke to the lady at the front desk. “One table, please, for a half hour,” Joan said. She passed the woman a pile of coins. The clerk handed her two paddles and a tray of white balls. 

“That one over there, the clerk said. ” She pointed to a table. “Number sixteen. Ah, sir, can you remove your mask?” 

He shook his head. “It’s because I had surgery. My skin is still sensitive.” 

“Oh. All right, then.” The women smiled at each other. Then the two walked to their table. 

They began to play. Joan was surprised to work up a sweat. The man won the first match by a narrow margin. 

She won the second. “Let’s have a third, to make sure,” she said, and smiled. The man nodded. 

He won the last, by a few points. “Good game,” he said. They returned the materials to the table. 

“So, that’s done,” Joan said, as they walked home. “Do you want to – ah – hold my hand?” 

“No. I’m all sweaty.” 

Joan nodded. They got back to her flat. 

The man sat down on the couch. Joan got him a glass of lemonade with a straw. “Here. You can sip this.” He did. 

He tried to peel off the mask. The strap was set too tightly, and he struggled to pull it open. “Aah-” He shook his head to loosen the material. 

Joan got up and went to the kitchen. She came back with a pair of scissors. “Let’s get this done.” 

Quickly, he pulled her to the couch. She dropped the scissors and yelped. He leaned over to kiss her, but the mask prevented them from touching. He sat back and reached for the scissors. 

Carefully, he inserted the tip of the blade under the strap, and pinched the handles closed. The mask came free. It was Morse. 

Joan gasped. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“I was waiting for you to guess.” 

“The voice modulator made it so hard.” 

“Didn’t you figure it out from my hair?” 

“Anybody looks similar, from the back of the head. It’s easier to tell your hairstyle from the front. Eh, you beat me, then.” She waved her hand. “I release you. You are free to go.” 

“So quickly?” he said, and propped his head on one hand. The other, he moved to the couch beside him, and set it down on the cushion. 

She moved to sit by him. Slowly, they leaned toward one another. 

Joan heard the front door open. 

Both of them jumped back. Morse got up and ran to Joan’s room. Cheryl and Rachel walked in. 

“I thought you weren’t coming home!” Joan said. 

“We had a bit of a dispute at the snooker hall,” Cheryl said. 

“Yeah, we got into a debate.” Rachel put away her jacket. She hung up Cheryl’s as well. 

“So, you didn’t go home with-” Joan began, then stopped. 

“No, we didn’t meet any new friends. At least, we didn’t succeed in making contact. Which is vital for social occasions.” 

“True. I won’t ask you how the matter developed.” 

“We didn’t get arrested,” Rachel offered. 

“Well, good for you," Joan declared. 

“Would’ve been nice for that Mr. Marsh to have come to get us,” Rachel smirked. 

“Yeah, I’d like to be arrested by him,” Cheryl laughed. “He’s cute.” 

“Well, if only you could have met him.” Joan’s lips curled. 

Rachel walked down the hall, presumably to use the washroom. Cheryl went into her own room. In minutes, Rachel came back. 

“I smell a man,” she said. “Where did you put him?” 

“I don’t have a secret chamber, honestly,” Joan said, and folded her arms over her chest. 

“Look, I said before, I really don’t care who you bring home, or what you do. Consenting adults, as they say in the States. But they put new terms in our lease. If you have a person of the opposite sex stay over, they can boot you out. So be careful.” 

“I will.” Joan smiled. 

She went to her room. “Good thing they’re watching out for us,” Endeavour said. You never know.” He was sitting in a chair next to the desk. 

Joan smirked. She swung her legs under the covers, and half-sat up, with an arm draped over her knees. 

“Tell me a story,” he said, all of a sudden. 

“There’s nothing to tell. I’m just a social worker.” 

“It’s not exciting?” 

“Usually, it’s a chore. Mrs. Law likes me.” 

“If you don’t tell me anything, I’ll have to go to sleep.” He propped his chin on one hand and pouted. 

“Let me get you-” she said, and went to the closet. From its recesses, she pulled a metal frame, a folded mattress, a set of sheets, and a pillow. In a moment, she had assembled a cot. “There you are.” 

“I’m sure I’ll be, ah, comfortable.” 

“I have to go change.” She took a nightgown out of the dresser and went to the washroom. 

Minutes later, she came back. Endeavour was under the covers. She could see he was wearing his tank top, and presumably, his boxers. 

“You still owe me,” he said. He drummed his fingers on the edge of the mattress. 

“Oh, a story, eh? Why don’t you tell me one first?” 

“Are you stalling for time?” 

“Yes.” 

“Okay. When my mother died, I-” Suddenly he turned toward the wall. 

“You can say it,” Joan insisted. 

He breathed out heavily, and faced her again. “I thought about getting a knife out of the kitchen-” He began to hyperventilate. 

She jumped up. “That’s terrible. Here.” She reached in the desk drawer for a paper bag. “Breathe into this.” 

He did so. “Thank you.” After a few breaths, he was back to himself. “You still owe me.” 

“Okay. Some friends and I rented a cabin in the Lake District. This was in secondary school. We were there for the weekend.” 

“No supervision?” Endeavour smirked. 

“Not enough,” Joan said, and hugged her knees. “We rented some boats as well. Paul Bowens challenged me to a race. He was just – an acquaintance. He asked me out once. I said no.” 

“Why?” 

“I don’t want to tell you.” 

“Why?” 

“You’ll have it all over the office. I’ll never live it down.” 

“What, did you kill him or something?” 

“Stop. I’ll never finish if you don’t let me.” 

“Eh.” 

“We were in separate boats. We rowed out into the middle of the lake. He said, ‘You wanna see something?’ And he flipped his boat over. He never made it out.” 

He stared at her. “Really? Did you try to rescue him? Report it to the police?” 

“Yes and yes. We spent a lot of time trying to find him. We couldn’t. The police dredged the lake, but no one could dig him out. No one knows where he went.” 

“That’s horrible.” Endeavour shivered. “Do you think he found a secret channel to another lake or stream?” 

“I don’t know. How did we get on this kick?” She smiled ruefully. 

“I asked you to.” 

“Right,” she snorted. 

“Are you still moving to the adoption agency?” he asked. 

“Yes. They’re planning on sending me to Leeds.” 

“For a conference or something?” 

“No. Forever.” 

“What’s up there that isn’t in Oxford? You could at least go to London. It's only an hour away. Did you already talk to somebody?” 

“Yes. Mrs. Law says she can’t come with me. There’s a greater need up there, that’s all.” 

“Do your parents know? And your brother?” 

“No, I didn’t tell any of them yet.” 

“Are you really sure about this? Did you think it through?” 

“Yes. I still want to. Did you bring your insulin?” 

“Don’t get on me about that. I still have it. I’ll take it in the morning.” 

“I wasn’t – getting on you.” 

“It’s in my coat. Please get it. Better take it now, instead.” 

She retrieved it, and handed it to him. He got out a needle and swabbed his arm with a small alcohol cloth. He did what he needed to do. 

“There, that’s better. Now you won’t worry about me.” He threw out the box the needle had come in. 

“I always worry about you.” 

He tilted his head. “Oh?” he said, and paused. 

“Well, you have a very difficult job. My mind’s always on what happens at the station. What with my father, and everything.” 

“You said me.” 

Now she took a moment to answer. “Yes. Well.” 

“Well.” He raised his eyebrows. 

“Are you seeing anyone?” she said. 

“No. Why?” 

“Just curious.” 

“Well, don’t be curious about that, okay? I can get along just fine.” 

“Never said you couldn’t. I just like to keep up with you.” 

“And what is that supposed to mean?” 

“You’re scaring me. Keep your voice down. I don’t want to get in trouble.” 

“Oh, you don’t want trouble. Is that what I am? Is that why you didn’t want to be with me?” He got out of bed and stood next to it. His face was bright red. 

“What? I never said that. I said I didn’t want pity.” 

“What if I loved you? Did you even tell your parents, or is your mother ashamed of me too? I know your father isn’t.” 

“How could you? Why are you saying these things?” Tears welled in her eyes. 

“That’s why I like work better than being with you. Enough of this! I’m going to get a real drink.” Morse stormed down the hall, in quest of her liquor cabinet. 

Joan sank back down on the bed and covered her mouth. She began to cry in earnest. 

... 

Endeavour never got his hands on Joan’s liquor stash. He was met by Cheryl and Rachel, who were both wearing pajamas and bathrobes. 

“What’s this, you arsehole?” Cheryl spat. “I heard you yelling. And I don’t think anything fun was going on.” 

“Ladies, please. I have to get past you. Let me go.” He tried to dodge her. She held out an arm and blocked him. 

“Get out,” Rachel said. “We don’t need you around here. We’re certainly not fixing you a drink.” 

“We protect our friends,” Cheryl said, folding her arms across her chest. 

“She’s got my things.” Morse scratched the back of his neck. 

“I’ll go get them for you.” Rachel marched off. 

Endeavour waited in the kitchen with Cheryl. She tapped her foot. 

In minutes, Rachel came back with Endeavour’s full outfit, and his insulin kit. “Get dressed in the toilet. Then get lost.” 

“Okay,” he mumbled, and walked down the hall. 

By the time he came back, the two flatmates had gone back to bed. He went out to his car and drove home. 

... 

The next Monday, he dragged himself into the office. He hadn’t slept a full night since the disaster at Ms. Thursday’s place. And he didn’t think he was going to this night, either. 

Jim took notice right away. “Did you get beaten?” Morse shook his head. “Come to my office, please.” 

Endeavour walked with him. “You’ve got your own room now? Before me?” 

“One of the perks of rank.” He closed the door. “Take a seat. Everyone knows you’ve got a case of the bads.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You know who I’m talking about! There’s been rumors about you for years.” 

“That I’m a gay fish?” 

“No. Don’t pretend you don’t know. We all figured you had a personal thing going on with, you know.” 

Endeavour sighed. “I suppose I have to sit through this.” 

“For your own health, you’d better. Mr. Thursday has informed me that you should seek professional help.” 

“Like a doctor? I don’t have to get my checkup for months.” 

“Like a psychiatrist. You need to. Maybe you should go to a stroke doctor, too. I’ve heard about you.” 

“Don’t tell me-” 

“Someone has to. This isn’t like when your father taught you to drive. You’re playing with your life.” 

“All right, I’ll look up someone in the phone book. Happy now?” 

Jim shook his head. 

“Figured you wouldn’t be.” He narrowed his eyebrows. “How did you know what happened?” 

“Word gets around.” 

“It seems to have that habit.” 

Jim folded his arms over his chest. “You’re off the charity rugby team.” 

“Was I on it?” 

“You were going to play. You’re not going to get a t-shirt now.” 

“My loss. All right, I’ll see you.” He got up and left. 

Strange shook his head. 

... 

By the end of shift, Morse’s head felt like it might float off at any moment. He had looked in the phone book and found the names of some nearby psychiatrists. He thought he’d wait before asking anyone for more medication. 

He ran a paper towel under the water fountain stream, and swabbed his forehead. Then he headed out to his car. 

Endeavour dropped off the loaner and picked up his regular car. It ran a bit smoother than before. The radio was as reliable as ever. They were playing ‘Flight of the Valkyries.’ He tapped his hands on the steering wheel and whistled the melody. 

He got back home, intending to start work on a garden, but wound up kicking the soil. A garden would have to wait. 

As soon as he was inside, Endeavour took off his shirt and changed into gray sweatpants. In a box in the back of the closet, he found a deflated old rugby ball. He went to the front steps and kicked it a short way. He would never have been able to help Jim at the game anyway. 

Endeavour wrote down some things on a grocery list, then switched on the TV set and slumped in his recliner. The foot pad didn’t move very much. He let go of the handle. 

The television didn’t have a lot to offer. The news showed a clip about a new lottery being offered in Northern Ireland, and then the weather came on. Thunderstorms. What a shock. 

He dozed for a while, and woke up to the sound of sirens heading down the road. He looked outside. Fire engines and an ambulance. Someone must have gotten in a wreck. 

Endeavour stretched and took a couple of deep breaths. Although it was early in the evening, he decided to skip dinner and get some sleep. He would eat when he got up. 

... 

Morse slept until early the next morning. When he got up, he dressed quickly, and ran out the door. He was halfway to the station before he realized he’d forgotten breakfast, as well as a shower. 

Maybe Strange was right; he could have had a ministroke or something. At lunch, he would call the doctor’s office and ask for an early appointment. 

He scratched the back of his neck and tried not to think about What’s-her-face. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to walk past Mr. Thursday’s desk again. The pictures, and all. 

... 

Joan clocked her time at the museum, then did some research at the library. It was hard to find affordable flats anywhere, much less in big cities, but she could put up with having roommates again. She would miss Cheryl and Rachel. Perhaps they’d take the train up and visit her sometime. 

Ms. Thursday fed the fish and watered the plants. Her duties done, she set off for her room. There, she changed into a loose tunic and soft knee-length pants. She had seen some fashion magazines, and from what she read, the 70s were going to be strange. 

She wrote a letter to her brother, and included a couple photos of the family. She flipped on the radio, which was broadcasting a cricket match. Not Joan’s thing, but it would do to kill time. She lay down on the bed. 

When she got up, Morse was in the living room. 

Joan jumped back. “What are you doing here?” 

Very quietly, he said, “I want to talk.” 

“Couldn’t you just call me?” 

“No.” 

She sighed. “All right. Talk.” 

“Are you still moving?” 

“Yes. I’ve got a few weeks to go. I notified the landlord.” 

“And your friends?” 

“Yes.” 

“Are you going to be paid more?” 

“I don’t know. I’m not sure.” 

“Did you contact the office?” 

“Of the agency? Yes. I sent them my CV, and a letter.” 

“How did you get in?” 

He just stared. 

“You’ve got a little five-o-clock shadow,” she said. He nodded. “Well, if you’re not going to talk to me, I-” 

“I don’t know why you want to do this.” 

“I told you. Jim was bothering me.” 

“But he let you do your job.” 

“Not really. I’ve had it with smirky people.” 

“But that’s most of the human race.” 

“Whom you haven’t met.” 

He raised his eyebrows. 

“Where are you going to live?” 

“In an efficiency, for a while.” 

“That’s all?” 

“Can’t afford a high-rise.” 

“Who are you living with?” 

“Not sure. Might put up an ad in the laundry room.” 

“Are you taking a bus, or buying a car?” 

“Well, my uncle couldn’t make that deal to get me a compact car, so I guess it’s a bus.” She waved her hand. “We’ve talked. You can leave now.” 

He drummed his fingers on the cushion. 

“Morse, you’re scaring me. And how did you get in? You don’t have a key.” 

“Didn't I tell you? I remember how to undo locks, from my days as a PC.” 

“That’s breaking and entering.” 

“So?” 

She breathed out heavily. “You’re getting on my nerves.” 

“What’s in Leeds?” 

“Three times more people than this city. Some nice museums. I could work at one of them, if the adoption office doesn’t pan out.” 

“Are your parents going to help you? Your father has a car.” 

“They might.” 

“Did you tell them yet?” 

“I told my mother. She’ll tell Dad when he gets back from work.” 

“Seems like you’ve got your life knit up tight.” 

“You’ve got a better job than me. People like you.” 

“Not many people.” 

“Well, you’ll get promoted soon. I’m sure of it.” 

“Thank you. Mr. Lewis says he fears for my sanity. Just this morning, I was talking about clues on a case. He says he took notes. Four pages. Four.” 

“Who’s Mr. Lewis?” 

“A new PC I’m supervising. I wasn’t doing that well with DC Fancy. I don’t think you’ve met that one. Your father let me switch.” 

“Did you get a chance to call that doctor? Come on, use my phone.” 

“Is it really your phone?” 

“All three of us use it. We split the bill.” 

“Okay.” He took a note from his pocket and called the number. 

While he was busy with that, she went to the kitchen and got some iced tea. She drank some, and walked back to the living room. 

Endeavour hung up the phone. “I’ve got an appointment.” 

“Hope it does you some good.” 

“When you go to Leeds, are these people going to come and see you?” 

“You mean Rachel and Cheryl? Yeah, I told them they could come up by train sometime.” 

“Your parents, your friends. Everybody but me.” 

She tilted her head. “I’m sure you can buy train tickets. You had enough to get a house.” 

Again, the stare. 

“Morse, this is really making me nervous. I’m telling you to leave.” 

“Point to the door.” Puzzled, she did so. 

“Leave.” 

“Why do you have to do this? Run away when you have problems?” 

“Like you haven’t done that.” 

“I haven’t left town.” 

“But you went away in your mind, which is far worse.” 

He really wouldn’t stop looking at her that way. She decided to open the door for him. “You’ll have to find another woman to forget. I’ve been your life for comparison – yours to contrast with all those other women you went out with. To help you anticipate creating a real home. But they’re grown women. And even though you’ve got a place to live, you’re still homeless.” 

She waved out the door. He stood up and put his hands in his pockets. 

“You’re some piece of work,” Joan said. “I loved you so much.” 

His eyes went wide. 

“All those years, waiting for you to make a move. You were always seeing someone else, or I was. We just never got our time together.” She started to wonder if bugs were coming in. 

“Is that all you have to say?” He stepped closer to her. 

She took a deep breath. “All I ever wanted was to be loved back. Peter, Ronnie, they liked me, but they didn’t want to stay with me.” 

“So you know what it’s like.” 

“Somewhat.” Joan sighed. “I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you.” 

Again, his eyes went wide. “True?” 

She nodded. “And I won’t be able to stop.” 

“Take this with you to Leeds.” He stepped forward and kissed her. 

It went on for some time. She broke it off. 

“Why did you – why-” She struggled to talk. 

He grabbed her wrist, and pulled her in for another kiss. He put his arms around her waist. 

Then he backed up, his face turning red. “Jesus, it’s another-” he gasped. He waved his hand at the couch. “The bag, I put it there. Please.” 

She handed his diabetes supply pouch to him. He took out a candy bar and chewed it. “I have to make a dosage schedule and follow it.” He put the bag down. “Whew. That was a near one.” 

“Yes. Let me get you some iced tea. Your second drink in a few minutes. Good thing it’s not whiskey.” 

“This iced stuff is popular in the States, right?” 

“Yes. It’s not bad.” 

“All right.” 

She came back with the glass, and some more miniature chocolates. “See, it pays to have some of these around.” She smiled. 

“Thank you.” He ate and drank. “This tea is rather sweet. Is it real sugar?” 

“No, it’s a substitute.” 

“Hmm. Well, it’s good anyway.” He took some deep breaths. 

“I’ve been missing you, and you’re not even gone,” Joan said. Endeavour’s lips curled. “The worst part of it all was, thinking you didn’t even like me anymore. That you wouldn’t be coming home to me. You would never say to me-” She lowered her head. “Something like ’Hold me.’” 

He stood up and held out his arms. “Hold me.” 

She went to him. 

In the bedroom, they both undressed. There was little light coming through the window. 

He pushed slowly, trying to take his time. Trying- 

At the end, they erupted in noise. He surged inside her body. Then he collapsed. 

Endeavour kept his arms around her. “You’re not going to Leeds.” 

“No.” 

“Hmm.” 

It took them a while to fall asleep.


End file.
